West of Baston Prefecture, for over a hundred li the land was steeped in murderous tension, the very air seeming to freeze. Around the old Daoists and monks, yuanqi churned and condensed behind them into sacred manifestations, each swallowing mountains and rivers with their presence.
Dao Gate and Great Thunderclap Temple both boast ancient lineages, even older than the Cult of the Heavenly Demon. To these two sacred lands, the Cult is still a relatively young sect.
From the sacred manifestations formed by the yuanqi behind these old Daoists and monks, one could glimpse the river of history—gods appearing with three heads and four arms, tortoise-backed immortals with dust-whisks, hoopoe crests and leopard tails, vajras and yakshas, all manner of divine shapes.
As for Master Qiong, Lady Tian Zhenjun, and the others, they presented a different spectacle. Their lineages were not as ancient as Dao Gate or Great Thunderclap Temple, but they were powerful in their own right. The gods manifest behind them included great Confucian sages, women holding golden insects, and rag-clad poverty spirits.
The court’s top officials standing behind Emperor Evan each displayed their own distinctive aura. Heavenly Tactics Grand General Keane Jian and Paula Keane did not manifest gods, but instead twin golden maces—eight-edged, gleaming, spinning ceaselessly. Born of the battlefield, they worshiped no god or Buddha; their weapons themselves were their gods, forged for war and slaughter.
Even the deity behind Monk Yuankong, the Grand Marshal, was not a Buddha but a chain-bound ascetic monk wielding a precept-knife, standing ready for battle—a reflection of Yuankong himself.
Lord Ling Hua of Mount Tai stood with nine dragons coiling around Mount Tai itself, the mountain serving as altar and the dragons in worship. He oversaw all imperial sacrifices for the Everpeace Empire.
Minister Wade Pingbo, master of the empire’s waterways, did not manifest a deity either, but a colossal engineered river-dam formed from earth, timber, and water—his dao was hydraulic engineering itself.
Treasurer Lucy Xiu, a female official overseeing the imperial treasury and all finances, also did not manifest a god. Instead, behind her twisted together like a great serpent were strings of Everpeace Coins—she worshiped currency itself.
High Councilor Susan Su, another female official of highest rank, could open her own administrative office, her status equal to the Three Dukes. Though a scattered civil post, her authority was immense, overseeing all academies and schools. Her manifestation was not a deity, but a scroll and a measuring ruler.
Behind Vanguard Cavalry Grand General Quan Dingwu blazed a warhorse wreathed in flames. Atop the horse, a war-god manifestation bathed in fire: eight arms wielding blade, shield, spear, halberd, sword, and lance, four faces gazing in all directions, eyes spitting fire like beams of light. Every face in the inferno was his own.
From here, the difference between the court’s cult-master-level experts and those of the sects became clear. Dao Gate and Great Thunderclap Temple revered gods and Buddhas, their manifestations were all divine beings. But the court’s powerhouses took their own offices as gods, turning their duties into their personal deities—each with their own domain, each with their own strength.
Even Monk Yuankong, though born of Buddhism, treated himself as an ascetic cultivating amid battle, never once manifesting the image of a great Buddha.
A Long-Eared Monk’s face darkened. He muttered, “The Imperial Preceptor’s reforms have produced these heretical devils who worship no gods or Buddhas! They show no reverence for the divine, and instead honor all manner of bizarre things!”
Quan Dingwu pointed at the Long-Eared Monk and sneered, “Apply what you learn, unite knowledge and action. Long-Eared Monk, your cultivation is shallow—you won’t escape death today.”
“A lifetime of bitter cultivation—how could it compare to enlightenment in gods and Buddhas?”
Emperor Evan replied calmly, “It’s all one’s own skill. Relying on gods and Buddhas—that’s the real ‘external path.’ If they perfect their duties to the level of gods and Buddhas, then they themselves become gods and Buddhas!”
The old Daoists of Dao Gate lowered their eyes. The Dao Lord shook his head. “Perfecting your duties to the level of a god? Even if you become a god, you’d still be working for mortals. That’s the doctrine of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon—power for daily use by the people. Emperor, you’ve been too deeply influenced by the Imperial Preceptor and the Cult.”
Emperor Evan smiled. “If I joined the Cult of the Heavenly Demon, maybe I could even make it as cult master.”
“If it’s the demonic path, there’s nothing more to say.”
Each old Daoist adjusted the sword at his back. Someone whispered, "Kill."
At that word, murderous intent filled the sky, and the cold wind grew piercing. Just then, an old man came rattling along with his ox cart.
At once, everyone withdrew their killing intent and stood quietly, eyes on their noses, noses on their hearts, saying nothing.
The old man saw the sky full of gods and Buddhas and was terrified; even the ox trembled, legs shaking, unable to pull the cart. Gritting his teeth, the old man mustered his courage and lashed the ox several times before it finally strained to drag the cart slowly out of this troubled place.
Once the old man and his ox cart had gone, battle was about to erupt!
Just as the Divine Bridge–realm experts were about to strike, the rattling of wheels sounded again—another ox cart approached, an old man leading his ox. Seeing the crowd, the old man’s legs shook as he trembled, barely managing to get the cart through.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, about to strike—when once again came the rattling of wheels. An old Daoist snapped, "With all this cold and disaster, where are all these ox carts coming from?"
A chill ran through everyone’s hearts. It was true—disaster raged everywhere, cattle and sheep had been eaten, so how had three ox carts come by in such a short time, and all through here?
On this cart sat an old couple—one white-haired old woman, one not-quite-old man. The crowd waited quietly for the cart to pass.
But the cart stopped. The ox showed no fear of the terrifying scene ahead. The old man and woman leapt down, and like magicians, unfurled the cloth on the cart, gave it a shake, and pulled it off—suddenly, a dozen oddly-shaped people appeared, crowding the small cart to bursting, nearly spilling out onto the ground.